


The Apostate's Daughter

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2012-08-19
Packaged: 2017-11-12 11:18:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/490301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marian Hawke struggles through her first time with Anders after having been sexually abused by templars in Lothering. From the Kink Meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Apostate's Daughter

**Author's Note:**

> Original Kink Meme prompt:  
> In order to keep the family safe in Lothering...Hawke subjected himself or herself to sexual abuse by the Templars. Hawke has never experienced pleasure.
> 
> Hawke confides in Anders as they get close and Anders loves Hawke so much he wants to show him or her what pleasure feels like between two people who love eachother

She's nervous, he can see it in her eyes. It surprises him, to be honest. She's always been so cool and confident. She's lead him into battle countless times. She's shouted orders to their comrades, she's taken down Qunari, Blood Mages, and Templars beyond counting...yet she trembles when he approaches her. In spite of her confident words in his clinic, in spite of her teasing, now that he's here in her bedchamber, he can see hesitance and fear in her eyes.

It makes him sick. Is she rethinking this? Has she decided being with an abomination is too great a risk? Is that why she's stiff in his arms as he trails kisses down her neck? She'd said she loved him, she'd said she wanted him here, she'd said she was ready, she'd led him to the bed where he was now perched on top of her, so why...?

He couldn't know the painful memories that she was struggling to keep down. He couldn't know how she had to remind herself whose hands were on her, to repeat silently to herself _it's okay, it's Anders, I want this, it's okay, I love him_ . He couldn't know how she struggled because she had not told him. She had not told anyone ever in her life the things she had done, the things that had been done to her, in Lothering. But when tears threatened to fall, and she could feel his eyes on her as they widened in shock and confusion, she knew she would have to confess.

“Love, what...” his question came out half formed as he stroked her cheek. “what have I done?”

She takes a shaking breath and steadies herself. Shutting her eyes closed, she reminds herself of everything she is. She's strong, she's a fighter, she's the champion of Kirkwall. she can do this, she can do anything. “I'm sorry, Anders, I...”

“It's fine.” he snaps, jumping to conclusions as usual. He's certain he knows what's coming. She doesn't want him after all. She doesn't want an apostate, an abomination, why would she? “I'll go. I understand.”

The desperation in the sob that his reaction wrenches from her lets him know immediately that he's made a grave mistake.

“Sweetheart?” He questions softly turning back towards her, stroking her hair reassuringly. To say he's confused would be an understatement but he waits patiently. Marian Hawke is not one to cry easily.

“I'm sorry...I'm so sorry.” She whispers trying to choke back her tears. “I've ruined everything and it was going so well.”

“It's fine,” He soothes. “It's fine, love, take your time and tell me what's wrong.”

She pushes tear soaked strands of her dark hair out of her face and her blue eyes fix on the ceiling, refusing to look at him. He watches her trembling lips and waits in agonizing suspense.

“I've never...I've never...”

Was she trying to tell him that she's a virgin? He wonders. It would be a surprise, as would her way of handling the situation, but he supposes everyone is different and confidence in one aspect of life does not entail confidence in another. He certainly has enough experience to know that.

“It's alright if this is your first time, Marian. We can go slow.”  
The realization that he thinks she's trying to confess to _virginity_ of all things hits her in the most sickening way and for a minute she thinks she really will vomit. How could she think she could do this? Be with him, as if it were that simple? She should never have let it go so far. She thinks she must look ridiculous laying there weeping like a child. 

“No,” her voice shakes. “No, Anders, i'm not a virgin.” She almost chokes around that hated word, the meaning of which, the idea of which, carried so much pain for her. “but neither have I...” her eyes close trying to shut out the memories. “ever given myself to a man willingly.”

It hits him sharper than the lightening that so often flew from his staff or his fingertips in battle. He feels the familiar boiling rage well up in his stomach and it takes every single shred of his control to keep Justice contained. The spirit inside clawed away at him, demanding retribution, which Anders desperately wished he could deliver, but he knows he cannot. There is no one here to turn Justice's wrath on. There is only Marian, already frightened, already shaken, and more in need of the kind words and understanding of the man she loves than the vengeful wrath of a fade spirit.

She is not the first he has seen in such a state, he thinks sadly. He remembers the faces of every one, usually mage girls rescued from the gallows, sometimes just innocents from anywhere, victims of the dangerous, festering pit that is Kirkwall. He could heal them superficially but he knew there were wounds too deep for even magic to touch.

“I'm so sorry,” she sobbed “I've ruined everything!”

“No, love, no.” He shakes his head and squeezes her hand. This is the woman he loves and he will be calm and collected for her. He will not give into his urge to rage, to demand _who did this to you?!_ No, he would stay in control for her sake, no matter how murderous his thoughts. “You haven't ruined anything. If you're not ready yet, we'll wait until you are.”

She wants to tell him. She never thought she'd want to tell anyone. It was a secret she expected to take to her grave, but it's been years, so many years that it has worn on her, eating away at her, and she wants to let it out, needs to let it out. Anders's hands are pressed against her own gently with their fingers laced. She can feel his energy and it comforts her.

“Lothering.” She sighs, her eyes close, and her lips move. A part of her cannot believe she is doing this. She had sworn no one would ever know but the words come almost of their own volition. “I was so young. I couldn't...” The tears began again. “I couldn't fight like I can now. I was barely a youth. I was...I was...” she shook her head, unable to articulate the memories of the girl she'd been, barely out of childhood, fresh faced and young, not yet knowing how to wield a blade. She'd known how to cook and clean around the house and to help her mother with laundry and sewing. She'd known how to pull weeds and tend the garden...but not yet how to fight.

“I've never told anyone. I couldn't risk them finding out. Father would've blamed himself.”

Anders stomach churned violently. Somewhere deep down he had hoped, not that it was anything to hope for, that it would've just been a senseless act of brutality and violence that it wouldn't have anything to do with Marian being an apostate's daughter. He cursed himself for even daring to hope. Of course it was because she was a mage's child...of course. There was nothing in his life the Templar's hadn't touched.

“It was only her age that spared Bethany.” The tears were falling silently now and Marian's misery was cloaked behind a false veneer of calm. “They told me they'd kill father, that they'd take Bethany to the circle, and when she was older...” The thought of it, the memory of the man who'd said those words to her, was too much and the calm veneer she'd tried to regain cracked again for a moment as her story was broken by yet another sob. Marian shook her head violently sending her soft dark hair flying. “I was weak! I was weak! I should've fought! I shouldn't have been so scared!”

“Marian, love,” her words were killing him but he would not waiver. He would be steady for her. “This is not your fault. There was nothing you could've done. You were just a girl.” He could not contain the brief flick of blue when he concluded. “The ones at fault are the Templars who did this to you.”

“My father he...he wanted us to have a normal life so badly. He was so happy when I was born without magic, he thought he wouldn't have to worry for me the way he worried for Bethany. How could I take that from him?”

For the first time since she began to tell her story she turned sorrowful blue eyes on him and it nearly broke his thin hold over himself. He remembered his own words _You should have a normal life, you don't want to be with an apostate ._

“So I let them hurt me.” Her voice was softer, quieter, than he'd ever heard it and he never wanted to hear her speak that way again.

His heart was pounding out of control, Justice was raging inside him, all he could do was press her hands against his lips, close his eyes, and choke out the words that Justice would've screamed.

“They will never harm you again. I swear it, Marian, I swear it. I will kill any Templar who touches you whether in violence or...”

“Anders...” she stroked his face and placed a tentative kiss on his lips. “Anders, love, I'm not that little girl anymore. I'm strong now. You don't have to worry for me. I killed the Arishok in single combat. No Templar would dare.”

Anders was shaking, registering her words but unable to let go of the thoughts that were running through his head. She may not be that little girl anymore but he would give anything, even break his own vow against blood magic, if only he could go back and protect the girl she once was.

She had suffered so much, and all because she was an apostate's daughter, all because her father had wanted to live free to raise her, even simply to have her,to know her. It was all because the Chantry allowed their Templars to commit such abuses unchecked. He could not protect the girl his Marian once was but he could change the world for her. He would gladly give his own life to create a world where the daughter he and Marian might have been able to have, were circumstances different, could grow up with no such threat on account of either being born a mage, or being born to a mage. He would never be able to eradicate all such injustices from the world but he could give his life to fighting those that were born of systematic oppression. 

He sighed and lifted his eyes to hers managing a broken smile. “I know, my love, I know. You do not need my protection and yet....I would spill the blood of every Templar in Kirkwall in your name if you but bade me to do it.”

She laughed and to her own surprise it was not hollow. It was weak, yes, but it was light and genuine.  
“Oh Anders. What will I do with you? My handsome apostate.” she kissed his stubble. “More likely to bring me a still beating Templar heart than flowers for my birthday.”

He smiled, wishing to encourage her. “Any ponce can go to the high town market and by flowers, love. You deserve something more.”  
The words she had told him had done much to bolster her own courage. It had been years and coming into adulthood had given her so much strength. She had taken the hardships in her life and used them to fuel her own resolve.

She never let anything stand in the way of what she wanted, not the blight, not the Qunari, she would not let her own haunted memories stop her now. The Templars had hurt her then but they would not keep her from Anders now. She wanted this, she wanted to have a true lover. She wanted to know how sex felt when she was with someone she loved, when she consented, and she would be damned if she would let them stop her. 

She buried her face against his neck and breathed in his scent. “I want you so badly,” she sighed her voice still tinged with sorrow. “I have never wanted a man this way. To be honest, I sometimes wondered if I ever would, but you, Anders, love, you...” she could not finish. She thought of his hands glowing blue with healing, the sweat on his brow when she'd first seen him, the way he spent every last drop of his mana in his clinic healing the sick and injured. She thought of the passionate words she'd read printed in his manifesto... words that echoed the truths she held in her own heart. She'd fallen in love with him irrevocably. His soul called to her and she needed to be his lover. She was compelled to know his touch.

“Marian,” he still ached for her even after their sobering talk but he knew he must master himself. “Marian, we can wait.”

“I've been waiting for so long.” Her eyes fell to her lap. “I want to know a lover's touch. I want to know how wonderful this can be, Anders please...”

It was all he needed to hear.

He kissed gently along her neck, suckling on her collarbone. He loosened the ties that held her silken dress together. In one swift movement he had her down to nothing. Not wanting her to feel too exposed he was careful to keep the situation balanced by helping her with the buckles on his coat and the laces of his pants as he impatiently stripped down to join her.

She was nervous again but in a new way, in a good way. He could tell from the energy radiating from her. She was unsure but so very willing to try. He would not let her down. He leaned forward, climbing on top of her, and stroked her sides gently. He would acknowledge what she had told him once more and then he would devote himself entirely to putting her sorrows behind her.

“I know the Templars hurt you love,” he ignored Justice's familiar scrambling and pushed onward “but I am the mage, the apostate, who will chase away their every touch. I will burn them from you, sweetheart, I swear it.”

He let his hands spark into carefully controlled arcane flames. They were warm and tingled where they touched her skin. The flames that licked at her did not sear her flesh but seemed to soothe her in the same way a warm bath might.

Anders ignored his own need and began a careful, meticulous survey of her body. He brought his fire over every inch of her skin, massaging up her legs and over her thighs, tracing flaming fingertips across her soft scar-strewn belly, delighting in the tenderness of her ample breasts, working the tension from her shoulders, and trailing a heated caress all along her arms.

She moaned his name quietly under her breath while keening and writhing under his touch. It was like nothing she had every experienced to be bathed in fire and remain entirely unscathed, more than unscathed, she was replenished. She was intoxicated.

When he brought a hand over her sex, letting the fires burn out, and beginning to tentatively trace the slick folds, she realized how truly undone she had become. She hadn't realized just how wet she'd grown during the course of his ministrations. She was aching with need. She had felt pleasure before, when she was alone in her bed, when she managed to keep her demons away with welcome thoughts of the mage before her, but it paled in comparison to what she was feeling now.

“Anders...Anders...please.” She pushed down on him as he slipped an experimental finger inside of her barely containing his own groan at her tightness. He wanted to fill her, he could not wait to fill her, but he would have to. He was determined to make this night as pleasurable for her as possible.

He willed his fingers to crackle with gentle electricity. He knew tonight would drain him in both mana but it would be worth it. He usually did not use such an extensive repertoire of magic as he had in store for Marian with his lovers but tonight was a special case. There was something in him that nagged that it was only just for a mage to try and right the wrongs that had been done to her in whatever little way he could.

“Is that...” Her eyes widened as he sent a single spark from his thumb to her clitoris. “Oh!”

Whatever nerves she had been feeling were soon lost to the mindless pleasure that overtook her as he continued to pour his energy into her from his fingertips, stroking her walls, teasing her folds, and stimulating her with his fingers and his magic in her most sensitive places.

She came the first time clenching down around his pulsating digits and slicking him with her fluids as she writhed. “Maker, Anders!”

His name from her lips was enthralling, he found he would do anything to hear it again.

He kissed her deeply muffling her moans with his lips. “That's it sweetheart, that's it, cum for me.”

“Please, please,” her bright blue eyes met his and she knew exactly what she was begging for but she didn't have the coherence to demand it. “please Anders.”

Some other night, he swore to himself, he would make her beg again, he would deny her until he could deny himself no longer, but not tonight. Tonight he would bow to her every whim and wish.

With a wave of his hand he extinguished the fire that had been burning in the hearth and in the new-found darkness he cast a hundred softly burning orbs of blue light that dotted across the ceiling.

“Oh, Anders, that's beautiful...” she sighed in contentment as he positioned himself between her legs placing gentle kisses along her inner thighs before straightening up and leaning over her.

“Are you ready, love?” He asked running a hand over the curve of her waist and casting a final invigorating spell that would ensure her stamina kept up with the long night he had in store for her. Grey Warden stamina was not a joke and even a fit, nubile, and dexterous rogue like Marian would have difficulty keeping up with it.

She rolled her hips against him needy and begging. “Maker, yes, oh Anders, please!”

He could not stop this now. He knew there was no going back. He'd warned himself to stay away from her, he'd been so afraid to break her heart, but he couldn't resist. She was going to be his and he would never, at least for as long as he was allowed to live, part from her. He would claim her tonight, bathe her in gentle kisses and promises of his love, and he would slaughter any man who...  
 _woah,_ He thought _easy there, easy._ The last thing he needed now was to give in to the spirit. 

Turning from his vengeful thoughts he captured her mouth in a kiss as he slid inside of her.

Oh maker... she made noises he never thought he would hear her make. She whimpered, she whined, she begged. The fearless woman who led him into battle, she pleaded for him to take her harder, to take her deeper, to take her again and again and again. He would never get tired of filling her like this, of having her legs thrown over his shoulders, of giving into her every demand as she cried out for more. 

They soaked the bedsheets beneath them by the time they were finally spent. Anders had lost count of how many times he had shot inside of her, he knew he had gone again and again until there was barely anything left in him to release...and how many times had she clamped down on his cock, her whole body shaking with her release, every muscle aching as it strove to bring her to climax?

He couldn't say. It had all blurred into one feverish dance. All he knew was that he had to renew the invigorating spell twice to bring her back from the edge of exhaustion. She was his lover now, irrevocably, and whatever guilt he would be feeling tomorrow was drowned tonight under an overwhelming feeling of love, contentment, and completion.

Later, when they'd regained their breath and the lights he had cast burnt out and the morning sun was barely starting to creep over the horizon, Marian gave voice to her thoughts.

“It was amazing Anders. I never thought...I had barely hoped...” She shook her head. “I just love you, my handsome man, my wonderful mage. You know that, don't you?”

He pulled her close and ran his hands through her hair. It had been a long time since he'd been with a woman and he was thoroughly exhausted but the sound of her beloved voice was enough to keep him awake.

“I do. I still don't know what you see in me but I know I am far too lucky to question it.”

“I just wish...” She sighed “I wish I could've given you...I just... I wish you'd been the first.”

He kissed her softly “I was, love. I was the first you chose. That's all that matters. That's not something that can be taken from you. It is only something you can give.”

She turned toward him and buried her face in his chest, so he could feel her smile.

“Oh Anders. I wish you never had to leave. You don't know how I worry for you alone in your clinic at night. You can't imagine how many nights I've spent in this bed sleepless and sick with worry that the Templars will come when i'm not there to protect you.”

“Do you mean that?” He asked his heart pounding in his chest. “Would you have me here, living with you? Would you tell the world, the knight commander, that you love an apostate and you will stand by him?”

She pushed herself up on one elbow so she could look down on him. Her other arm was draped over his too thin stomach and she made a mental note to do something about his weight. She poured all of her love into the smile she gave him as she replied. “I will, Anders. I would stand by you before the Maker himself. Don't ever leave, love, I want you here until the day we die.”

Anders heart beat so loudly he could hear nothing else as he grabbed her for a deep and passionate kiss. He had never thought to find a woman who would say such words to him, especially after he had merged with Justice, he had given up on his dream of love. This beautiful woman, this apostate's daughter, she was more than he'd ever hoped to find.

As they snuggled down to sleep she gave voice to his own thoughts “If my past has led me here to you, then I can feel a little better about the pain.”

“I feel the same, sweetheart.” He pulled her tight against him and reluctantly gave into exhaustion. 

One night could not cleanse her of her memories, of the nightmares, but with love and patience they could lessen over time.


End file.
